A Wistful Dream to Atrocious Compliance
by iheartanime434
Summary: Jeff the Killer lives a simple life. But the same routine has become too mundane for him. Until he met Jordan, of course. Jordan, in her perspective, lives an unbelievably boring life, as well as a depressing one. What will happen when two of the same worlds collide?


**A/N: OMG! OOC! LOOK OUT SHE'S GOT A GUN -_- Calm yourselves. This is my story. Shh. XD Hello everybody! I made this lovely little story on impulse, and I do hope you enjoy it :) Now, if you don't enjoy thinking philosophically (and somewhat hypothetically) don't read, please. But nonetheless, everyone, even haters are welcome :D**

**WARNING: A BIT OOC... A LOT OF OOC...I don't know. Also a lot of explicitly graphic representations of pain and suffering with, um, not so happy examples...if you're sensitive, I wouldn't advise this particular chapter. *-***

**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN THE CHARACTER JEFF THE KILLER. SOME GUY/GIRL CREATED IT ON CREEPYPASTA. **

**Now, I present to you, Jeff :)**

**Jeff's POV:**

Bored. So very bored. It's been _months_ since my hunger was last satisfied. Too long for my taste. But when you live a luxurious life like mine, there are some weighty prices to pay.

Sure, the pleasure of "murder" is ineffable. Since I essentially don't feel the slightest hair of guilt in my perpetually forsaken heart, it ultimately sends me into a state of euphoria. I'll even go so far as to say that it's far more pleasurable than any sexual gratification.

But back to what I was saying, this...profession of mine costs quite a bit. Because I'm always on the run.

Is that my only problem? Yes. But in no way am I being petty. This "simple" trouble does quite the damage. How so?

Because of one simple reason : I don't want to leave. It's oh so _very_ hard to leave.

To look back on a town and watch all my ravishing, little prey subside into the distance behind me. To sacrifice all the beautiful bloodshed and cries of my lovely little humans. It almost brings a tear to my forever awakened eyes.

No reason to lament though. This happens quite often. If only the world was as easy as it used to be. No high tech equipment or brain washed bastards of the general public to pursue me.

But in all reality, I'm not doing wrong. America is the "land of the free and home of the brave," after all. What I'm doing is _free_ of law and despite the public's description, _brave_.

I am well aware of the laws, as well. Don't think me naive. "Killing" is detestable and anyone who takes human life should be punished with execution.

But I do not murder. I simply put them to sleep. Yes, my methods aren't mother-like, but does it sound like I give a damn? The rhetorical question was given with intent.

But look at it my way. Everyone deserves to die; which is why I chose my playmates at random. So, I suppose I would be the punisher of wrong. Punisher. I make myself laugh sometimes. As if I do this as favor to the world. I'm surprised that I am being so idiotic.

Starvation is causing fatigue to my state of mind. But I already sedated my needs, so why am I thinking this way? I really need to get out of this damn house.

I looked at the small clock sitting homely on the presently blood spattered walls. 9:43? You have got to be kidding me. I spent more time sitting here, contemplating philosophical bullshit than the amount of time it took me to mutilate the small family of two.

On a coat rack hung the headless, mangled corpse of 3-year old Stephen, I remember the tenuous looking man screamed as I brought in the fresh cadaver, the young boy's jacket wrapped up quite snugly against his limp body. I even managed a clothes hanger through the top, into the collar of his jacket to hold him up. I'll elaborate on my methods used to send them to their eternal slumber.

After pulling my trusty hoodie over my head, I grandly kicked open the back door, finding the man sitting anxiously at a small coffee table. He jumped up, his eyes narrowing towards me. I felt my eternal smile grow impossibly wider as I stepped forward.

"I'm sorry, but it seems that you have lost your son." I state plainly, as if I was telling him he lost a book instead of an important life. The man was obviously enraged already, being reminded of what kept him in extreme anxiety; also apprehensive and alarmed as to how a random stranger knew about his son's recent disappearance. His eyes grew threatening and he stood from his chair immediately, preparing to charge at me.

"Who the hell are y-" he began the demand before I gingerly picked up the boy by the hook of the hanger that was holding him, presenting the man to his dear dead son. He visibly turned blue and he began screaming his son's name, falling to his knees. Ohh, I can still depict it clearly into memory now. The look of sheer horror and sorrow flooding his eyes, finding its genuine deliverance by releasing itself through tears of pure lament**. **I lifted the heavy weight up higher.

"Oh look, here he is. I guess you can have him back. But do try to hold onto your belongings in the future." I joked, placing the boy on the convenient coat rack beside the broken back door. I remembered laughing so hard, which only succeeded in making the man absolutely livid.

He lunged for me, of course, like any pitiably vengeful man would, but no one can fight when blinded by pure rage. I side stepped his attack lithely, hearing his hand collide into the glass of a picture on the wall. The shards of glass spread rapidly as he shot his hand back, screaming with pain.

I relished almost every second of his screaming in pure agony, but I knew subconciously I had to end this quickly. So, while he was distracted, I spotted another picture frame, lying oddly beside the empty space which used to be the old picture's dwelling.

I grabbed him by what little hair he had on the back of his head roughly, and slammed him face first into the convenient picture on the wall. I could already imagine what his mutilated face would look like as I pulled back. His face ornate with blood-stained shards of glass, blood trickling without relent, eyes bulging with agony. I heard his scream of his torment reverberate on the slightly bloodied walls. I need to change that. There's not enough color in here anyways.

I pulled back and threw him to the ground, as he made no effort to resist, at least, for a bit. I sat on his stomach, taking out the generously large knife out of my hoodie. The look of pure fear in his eyes and the delightfully blood curdling screams was enough to satisfy my needs right then.

But not quite enough. I brought the knife down, slowly sawing it through the tip of his jugular. I made the incision slow, watching his blood jet it's way hastily out of it's owner, finally free of it's incarceration. Blood is so much more beautiful when it's free.

The man began to choke from the lack of air, as he no longer was capable of breathing or screaming because of a cloth I stuffed down his throat, holding itself snug in place. Before long, the man ceased from making anymore redundant attempts of escape, the light slowly disappearing from his vision.

"Sleep," I murmured, finally slicing his neck through. His eyes became void of life, his movements now extinct.

His lifeless head rolled circuitously on his own flood of blood, which was cascading beautifully out of his body with such an incessant manner, it almost made me squeal with delight. I then looked down to his now red speckled sweater and got a wonderful idea. I went in search of another clothes hanger through the now abandoned home. I eventually found a heavy duty one and returned to the headless corpse, sliding the hanger in the back of his shirt with ease.

I then dragged him towards the coat racket beside his son, his feet making a path of blood along with him. I placed the father beside his long dead son. I then put in the final touches. It took me quite a bit, but I used the older victim's blood to write an unforgettable message on what space was left beside the lifeless bodies, using the man's exposed neck as a canal of blood as my resource.

Once I finished, I backed up carefully, aware of the river of blood beneath my feet. On the walls beside the eternally dormant family, I wrote "Like father, like son." I couldn't hold it back anymore; I laughed, but not so much of an evil cackle, but it was one of pure felicity. It was one of the most enchanting scenes I've ever been blessed to see in my life. I spent what seemed like hours of admiring my work before I finally sighed and sat down, thinking about the most random shit. Which is where I am now.

I've been here too long. Time to go before the cops come. I wonder where the hell the neighbors are tonight, there should have been calls hours ago. I know it's Friday but sheesh. Well, I guess it's time to get to evacuate. Too bad. But I made quite a mess this time. Nothing too bad but still. I walked out of the now idle home and made my ways out of there. I didn't bother to look back this time though, knowing I would only regret it.

2 weeks later~~~~~~~

Soon enough, I made my ways to a town far away from where my last "crime" was. I don't usually make such an enthusiastic use of my victims like that, but I _was_ starving. I soon made it off the last bus to a new town called Diresboro. Strange name. Oh well, doesn't matter. I pulled my hoodie over my head quickly to conceal my face...for now. I looked to the sky, seeing the sun retreat behind the horizon. It's late noon. Perfect time for window shopping.

It was a pretty quiet neighborhood, not too much buzz going on in the town. I'm okay with that though. I kept my head low but let my eyes wander freely about the small block. Oh, I didn't mention this; I torture whoever I deem most compelling first. So, I wonder just who will be the lucky one today?

**A/N: No one said I couldn't edit ;) But anyways, like I said, if you didn't like gory shit, don't read. But I do know some people fancy this kind of writing, so :) okay guys, I have a plot down but I don't even know if you guys like it. Sooo...**

**13-15 Reviews = Yay, please continue the story.**

**0-12 Reviews = Nay**

**Trust me, it won't get that graphic for a while in the later chapters, I had to do this to get people interested :D so, if you do want me to finish, be awaiting one hell of a plot ;) I have actual characters too. My OWN characters, who will be related in the story :D**

**By the way, people who happen to read _Republic City High: Where Everyone is Equal_, don't think different of me. I'm the same person that writes the somewhat light-hearted stories of LoK :) And I shall be posting the next story chapter sometime next week; I've already written quite a bit on it and have plenty of ideas, so I can assure you this time :)**

**Thanks so much for reading, please review!~ **

**with many hugs, ()^-^) **

**~~Serena**


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